the cottage in fallandor
by sfearing
Summary: all my own characters. co written by my friend sarah and i. no OC's. need lots of reviews and comments. Bercallion, Linnea, Dagwood,Kysa, and Davian. lots of plot twists!


The cottage in fallandor

Linnea

In a tiny, quiet, and small minded village named Fallendor, nestled high into the side of an ancient mountain, a little elf boy wandered the streets cold, hungry and alone. The cramped poorly thatched huts and cold field-stone shelters offered little to comfort the elfling. As he walked barefoot through the blistering cold and poorly cobbled streets and looked around, he saw families running into their homes, battening the doors behind them. No one gave him a friendly glance, or a warm smile. His family had just recently moved into the town from the dark and snowy forest below the mountain for a chance at a better life; a chance to branch out from their secluded lifestyle in their tiny mushroom cottage in the middle of the hidden clearing and become one of the first to try to befriend the humans. His family had known it would be a challenge moving away from the elf life, one where they were one with nature, and filled with magic and myth, and into a world where not much was known about who they were and how they made their way in the world. Humans feared elves. Their childhood stories didn't paint a very favorable picture of his kind. The only elves that were considered to be "nice" in their stories were the ones enslaved by the man their children worshiped, known as "Father Christmas." The elfling's tattered family was out to change the opinion of the humans, and show that elves and humans were not that different. Both humans and elves lived in family groups, cared for their children, worked to put food on the table, and died at the end of their lives. The elves expected the humans to see that they had hearts, souls and feelings just like humans did, but the humans wanted no part of this family or the rest of their kind.

All they saw were a group of woodland strangers who had moved into their town as the first of an invasion. The humans believed that the boy and his family were scouts, sent ahead to see how well defended they were. They thought that the new family would send for others of their kind who would arrive, overthrow the government and take the village by force to establish a kingdom of their own where humans would be enslaved by elves. Because of these crazy rumors that had been going around the town, the small elf family was soon banned from working in the village, and were subjected to numerous prejudice laws prohibiting them from doing just about everything. They had a curfew, a dress code, and even a limit on the number of apples they could buy.

With the ability for his parents to work outlawed, and just about every restriction imaginable placed upon what they could and could not do, the poor boy's parents discovered the wonder of liquor. To them it made all of their problems disappear, but to the boy, it only made them worse. So, one pitch black, starless, and moonless night when the snow was heavy and piled high on the thatched straw roofs of the village cottages, the boy decided to leave. Having had no food in his belly for nearly a week, no money in his pocket for over a year, and nothing but the bloody marks of his parents' drunken state as his belongings, he came to the conclusion that from this point forward in this world, he would make his own way in the world, no matter what the cost.

That is the story that my subconscious played out for me last night in the form of a cold and uninviting nightmare. The story it's self, is more than just a story. It's a reality...or was a reality, a long time ago. Although I was never around to see this actually play out, since it was a few years before that I was born that this happened, the villagers still talk about it every now and then, and so does he. The little elfling abandoned by his family and cast out from society, left to wander the woods below the village and hide away to survive.

I snap back to reality and find myself laying on my side staring blankly at the rough, gray stone wall of my bedroom. As my mind begins to clear away the fog of the lingering nightmare, my body becomes aware of the itchy straw poking up through my bed sheet and into my side. If there was one thing I missed from my childhood, it would have to be having a wealthy grandfather to send us new feather beds every year. This straw was not only uncomfortable, but also extremely hard on the delicate back of a young woman such as myself. Not to mention the mice that would every once in a while scurry into my room and make a nest for themselves out of my bed. One bite, that's all it would take and then, I would be cursed to die of the plague.

I screamed and flew out of my bed and across the room. Just thinking about the mice and the plague had spooked me. I couldn't imagine actually being faced with that situation, after all it was usually my father who delt with the mice in the house anyway. A shiver ran down my spine, as my groggy mind and on edge nerves finally came to terms with the unwelcoming chill of the morning winter air. A small breeze blew in from a gap between stones in the wall and caused the skirt of my thin flannel night dress to flare up and dance around my knees. The breeze was so icy it chilled right down into my bones and made my shins ache.

I jumped up and down in place a few times and held my arms tightly across my chest to keep warm, before dashing over to my wardrobe to change into some warmer clothes. Without even looking, I grabbed four of my warmest petticoats and pulled them on as well as two pairs of thick woolen socks. Then came the three flannel undershirts, woolen tunic and simple brown corset. Lastly, I pulled on my favorite pair of knee high, soft, brown leather boots. They were my favorite because although they were more than five years old, they still smelled like new leather, and they were broken in so well that they formed to the shape of my leg perfectly. The chocolate brown leather was also still smooth to the touch and had been able to withstand the eternal winter of the mountain village better than any other pair of shoes I had ever owned. They had never let me down, and so, I never intended to give them up.

Having finished getting dressed, I decided to take a peek in my looking glass to see what could be done with the matted rat's nest that liked to consider its self my hair. I crossed the stone floor of my bedroom to the dark oak wash-stand with the mirror hanging above it that sat between my two windows. When I looked into the mirror's sparkling reflective glass, and realized how awful of a mess my hair had become, I decided that my best bet was to just braid it and hope for the best. Without looking away from my reflection, I pulled the small drawer of the vanity open and reached in for my comb. Instead, I was greeted by a sharp prick in the finger.

"Ouch!" I yelped, and pulled my hand quickly away. I looked down to see what I had pricked my finger on and noticed it was a beautiful and delicate, long-stemed black rose. I sighed heavily and shook my head at my own foolishness. That rose had been in that drawer for as long as I could remember, ever since that fateful day in the woods all those years ago, yet I always seemed to forget that it was there. Maybe it was because I just didn't pay the sentimental little flower the amount of attention I should, or maybe it was the beauty's little "gift" that kept me from remembering that it was there.

I have had that rose ever since I was a small child, when I came across it and it's sister flower by accident. We were playing hide and seek in the woods-which with any other childhood friend might have been a bad idea-and no one knew the woods like he did, so I wasn't afraid to hide in places I had never been to before. I found myself wandering into an abandoned thicket where a a family of deer had probably once lived, and there they were. The three most beautiful flowers I had ever seen in my entire life, growing on the inside of the thicket, shying away from the sunlight. The petals where as black as the soul of a witch and the dew that dotted them made the flowers resemble the night sky. I knew that if I left them where they were, I would never see anything as beautiful or wondrous again, so I picked them.

I remember that it was a trying task, and that their thorns being sharper than those of most roses tore my tiny hands to shreds. I remember that he found me because I cried out because of the pain inflicted by their thorns. Him being him, he gloated for a bit about his win in our childish win...that is until he saw what the flowers had done to me. Then he dropped to his knees to join me where I was sobbing on the soft grassy floor of the thicket and took my hands into his. He pulled some cloth out of his deerskin pouch, gently kissed my cuts, wrapped them up and dried my tears. He pulled me to my feet, and told me that we should head back to his home in the clearing so he could take a better look at my injuries. He told me to leave the cursed flowers where they were, but I refused to leave without them, and threw a fit when he decided he would just carry me back against my will. In the end, he gave into my bratty, spoiled ways as he always did, and carried the flowers back for me.

They sat in his front window in a vase made out of an old log for three months without ever wilting. They kept their beauty even when he forgot to water them for weeks on end. That's what made them perfect subject of our next greatest childhood adventure. Our mock masquerade ball. Playing wealthy people dance party was one of our favorite pass-times on those seemingly endless days in the woods, but we had never pretended we were at a masquerade ball like the royals always through at the palace in the main branch of the kingdom. That day was the first day we had ever challenged our imagination with such a task, and we were determined to make it as authentic as we could.

It was his idea to make the masks out of what we could find in the forest. He said that the mask had to represent what we saw in each other and that the mask had to be hand made by the other person. So, while he made me a mask out of frost covered berries and some twigs, I took two of the ageless, wiltless black roses and crafted him a beautiful mask from the petals. While I don't remember what exactly he claimed the berries and twigs said about me, I do remember why I chose the petals for him. To my young mind they represented something abnormal yet beautiful that stuck out in the world and survived against all odds. They were something that never seemed to age, never died, and never gave up, just like him. I don't remember exactly if it was that day, or one shortly there after, but I do know that at a young age, I knew that he was the boy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

I smiled at the memories, and wrapped my bleeding finger in my petticoat. When the blood had finally congealed, I took my comb out of the drawer and went about fixing my hair into a neat braid bound together at the end with a piece of twine. Just as I was finishing the long process it took to make myself presentable in the morning, I heard shouting coming from the street below. I peeked out my bedroom window that looked out over the market square. Standing in the middle was a large crowd of villagers holding pitchforks and torches, ready to riot at any moment. Unfortunately this was not an uncommon sight, even this early in the morning when the sun had barely risen. I rested my elbow on the stone windowsill and then rested my cheek in my hand. Whether it was another woman they had deemed a witch, or another pauper caught stealing food from the market, things were about to get interesting and I wasn't going to miss the drama for the world.

"He's gone and done it again!" shouted a plump woman with crooked teeth was shouting from the center of the crowd. "My garden sheers have gone missing!"

"Yeah, and six loaves of my bread!" Shouted the scruffy town baker, "I spent all morning preparing those for the market! I turn my back for three seconds and they dissapear with nothing but a dead flower left in their place."

"Yeah, me too!" shouted the first woman.

"Something needs to be done about this!" Another villager, dressed in their filthy work rags shouted.

"Yeah, he killed our family's only cow!" called a little girl with tears in her eyes, "Beth never hurt anybody, all she did was give us milk." her voice cracked and she began to sob. Her mother rushed to her side, keeled down to her height, and buried the child's face into her shoulder.

"He's brought tears to the eyes of our children. For that the infamous Black Rose, must suffer!" the child's mother roared, as her face flushed red with anger.

"Yeah!" cried another villager, raising his pitchfork in the air.

"I say we find him, and burn him!" yelled another.

"Burn the thief! Burn the thief!" a woman began to chant.

"Burn the thief! Burn the thief!" The rest of the mob joined in as they light their torches.

The sight of the angry mob was an awful one. The town had not been this upset and riled up since they decided that the pastor's son was a warlock five years ago. I knew it was only in the nature of such small minded people as the villagers to panic over such small and insignificant acts of theft, but it still made me furious to hear them speak of burning my beloved thief at the stake and accused of murder (of animal or otherwise). Although I could see where ten years or more of incessant theft, of insignificant items or not, could wear a person down, the last thing I wanted to see was my best childhood friend captured and dealt the cruel fate of death at the hands of such idiotic villagers. Although It went against everything I believed it, I felt I needed to say something, anything, to get these imbeciles to shut up. Bercallion might be a thief, but he was not a murderer.

"He didn't kill your family's cow!" I called out of my window and into the crowd.

Suddenly the mob fell quiet and thirty five or so pairs of eyes all turned their attention to me. Thankfully I was up on the second floor, which would help with a quick rooftop escape should the mob turn their anger on me as well.

"What?" A scruffy bearded man called up at me in shock. I couldn't blame him for being surprised; Speaking wasn't usually one of the things I enjoyed doing, and speaking out against an angry mob was really out of my comfort zone.

"I said," I called back down at the mob, "That he didn't kill the family's cow. He wouldn't have!"

Another man in the crowd laughed loudly, "And how do you know that missy?" He asked mockingly.

"Simple logic" I replied sharply, "Something you all seem to lack."

A woman in the crowd crossed her arms across her chest and gazed up at me with hatred in her eyes. "Oh yeah, and what knowledge has this 'simple logic' let you in on that we seem to be missing then?"

"He's a thief!" I replied, "He steals, and when he does he leaves a black rose behind as a way of taunting. I have heard the rumors floating around the town about that cow, and in every version of the tale there is no black rose mentioned anywhere."

"Rumors are not a good source to base your facts on girl!" The baker spat at me.

"Yet you lot use them as a bases to burn innocent girls as witches all the time."

"Watch your tongue hussy!" another woman shouted.

"Beg pardon?" I asked, placing a hand over my mouth, faking at being appalled. "It's a bit of a hippocracy to call me a hussy when you yourself have rumors floating about concerning your marriage and the other man you might or might not be seeing, isn't it Mrs. Hopkins?"

The woman's face burned red with what I assumed was a mixture of shame, loathing and embarrassment. "Why you *base-court *whelp! You think you are better than the lot of us because your father married into money? It was sheer luck that such lowly blacksmith as your father met a Lady such as your mother, and from what I hear after her death and your Grandfather's your family dropped to the fringe of poverty. Oh, and with that *vixen tongue of yours I shall see to it that my son is off the list of possible suitors your father is considering you to marry. Your beauty may be stunning but it can not hide the ugliness inside thee!"

Now, I was angry. Speaking badly about my beloved Bercallion was enough to put me off, but to dragging my late mother and grandfather into the mess of things was where I drew the line. I felt my face flush and my blood begin to boil.

"My family's business is none of your own! And as for your son...I wouldn't marry that *cox-comb, *ill-bred, *glos idiot if he was the last man on this planet you *wretched *hag!" I slammed my palms on the windowsill, turned on my heel and stomped off toward my bedroom door. It was about time I headed downstairs for breakfast; Not that I was going to have much of an appetite after that argument.

"Best be careful dear Lila, for that tongue and temper of yours might lead them to believe that you are a witch...or perhaps that even you yourself are the thief." I froze at the sound of the familiar, bell-like voice, "After all, it's not like they haven't noticed that your family is the only family in the village that hasn't ever been robbed. Keep speaking like that and it won't be long before they put two and two together and assume that you are the thief."

I spun around, my heart beating as fast as the river current, and excitement pouring into my every fiber. There, lounged on my bed, with her legs stretched out in front of her and her hands placed behind her head was a petite little ice fairy dressed in a pair of crystal ballet slippers and a short gown probably made out of the morning's freshly fallen snow. Despite how the legends portrayed her, she was not in the least bit tiny; In fact she was bout the size of an average human girl of twenty years of age. Her wings resembled those of the spring time butterflies in the far off villages, except they were crystal clear and made of ice. Her porcelain skin glimmered in the small amount of winter light pouring through my bedroom windows. Her mousey brown hair was pulled back in it's usual messy ponytail that had a small amount of frost accumulated in the bangs. Atop her head she had a crown of freshly picked, frosted wild flowers, and despite her icy appearance, her huge green eyes gave off the warmest, and friendliest glow imaginable.

"Kysa!" I exclaimed, astonished, "What in the world are you doing here? It's been ages..."

The delicate fairy jumped to her feet and flapped her wings furiously. Within a matter of seconds she was dancing in the air above my bed.

"Bercallion decided that it would be safe for me to visit again since all the villagers seemed to have forgotten about the whole 'I caused the summer frost that destroyed their crops and only source of food' thing had blown over. He said I could visit...well, as long as I complied with his one request as well but you know, I had no problems with that." The exuberant fairy twirled in the air and an icy gust shot out of her fingertips. Next thing I knew, my entire bedroom floor had been covered in at least three inches of ice. The fairy stopped twirling and gazed at me with excitement in her huge green eyes. Then she took in the floor that had become an ice arena and the frost that had now accumulated on the ends of my bangs, and her face fell. She blushed a deep, yet pale pink, and hung her head sadly.

"Sorry." she mumbled, "I guess I just got carried away..."

"It's okay" I sighed as I carefully skated over to the side of my bed and took a seat, "at least it's not as bad as what you did to Bercallion's house the last time."

The fairy suddenly perked up and giggled like a six year old child. Then out of the blue she got a far off and dark look on her face, "...He almost killed me for that..."

"Anyway..." I changed the subject, "You said he had a condition you had to comply to in order for you to come and visit. What obnoxious task does he want you to do this time?"

Kysa sighed, "Oh Lila, you make it sound sound like I'm his servant...I don't have to obey him, I just choose to because I trust him, and he usually knows what he is talking about."

I crossed my arms across my chest, "True, and hey! How many times have I told you I hate that nickname?"

"According to Dagwood, at least a thousand, because mr. smarty pants has to keep record of everything."

"Yeah..."

"Anyway, Bercallion's only condition was that I ask you to join us for dinner tonight. He misses you you know, and what with the town folks having their bloomers in a bunch all the time, it isn't safe for him or you to have him visit here."

"True..." I sighed sadly, "Alright, tell him I'll be there...but I might have to come at sometime around midnight because sneaking out past my father is nearly impossible. Bercallion's little raids have him on edge."

Kysa smiled hugely, and she grabbed me into a huge bear hug and carried me off the ground. She twirled me around in the air and then gently placed me back on the bed.

"Oh yay! Oh yay! Oh yay!" She giggled, "Linnea is coming to visit!"

I heard my father moving around down stairs, "Kysa, shhhhhh!" I warned, "My father is awake!"

"Ooops!" Kysa whispered, "Well, I better get going. Bye Linnea, see you later tonight."

"Bye Kysa. Send my love to the others."

"Will do!" and with that she flapped her wings furiously and flew quickly straight into the wall. Her head smacked hard against the stone, her wings fumbled, and she bounced backward onto the floor.

"Ow!" She moaned and rubbed her head, and looked up at me meekly, "Forgot to whisper the spell..."

I shook my head slowly at her silly antics and watched as she mumbled something under her breath, and then flew at the wall again. This time she passed through with ease and was gone.

Chapter 2: My name is Bercallion, and I live in the snowy woods of Fallandor. Why? Well for one, I'm an elf and no, not the jolly, stereotypical type (That's racist.) I'm a thief on the run from bounty hunters. every night I sneak into the village I was raised in, and steal food from the market without anyone noticing until after I'm gone. I do this to survive. It's an adventure, they have men that take shifts patrolling the town. It's fun seeing their reaction when they turn on the lanterns and I'm no longer there. A couple times, I stole some gems and left a note saying "I'm just getting warmed up. Blackrose". The next time, I stole sugar and made it lead to a trap that I had set for them. It's Something to occupy my time. I'm worth quite a bit of money. 50 grand actually. My face is posted all over creation. It's by the town hall, on every tree in town, and on every news letter delivered.

I have three best friends because, when you're a thief, you don't have as many choices. Dagwood is a gnome. A real one, unlike the stone ones in your garden. Him and my friend Kysa get into the weirdest arguments. Kysa usually gives up. Dagwood knows every tree in the forest and how tall they grow. Kysa is an ice fairy. Her wings are white as snow and cold as ice. She's not too great at her magic, but she's getting better at it. She made quite a masterpiece out of ice once. It was quite surprising. It was spiral shaped around a maple tree. The three of us go everywhere together. Well, except for when I'm thieving. They don't approve, but they help with the outfits for it. All of them are made of leaves and twine. They change with the season.

I used to have another friend. Her name is Linnea. She was my only human friend. She was the most beautiful person that I had ever came across. Her brown hair flowed through the wind. I still keep a close eye out for her. She was always able to see what I was feeling. She helped me to look at the positive side of life.

We kind of met by coincidence. I was running from the government people, and she was looking for berries. I ran into her on accident. I quickly tried to apologize but after that, she just kept following me. So I decided to tell her my life story. You see, my family was the only elves to engage with the humans. We allowed ourselves to be seen by them. Unless an elf engages/talks to a human, he can't be seen. And once he's seen, he's seen forever. By everyone. It's kind of risky to do, which is why no one ever tried. We tried to show the humans that we're safe to be around and that we were just like them; However, they didn't like us too much in the end. It kind of backfired on us. They wouldn't let us work, and there were rules that kept us from doing just about everything.

After my parents discovered alcohol, my life changed. My home was a yelling fest. My parents started yelling at each other and then deciding to take it all out on me. My dad was more aggressive than my mom. My mom still thought I was a pain in her rear end, but my dad was always really disappointed in me. If I dropped a book, he would yell at me. I started stealing from my parents' food supply. Until they caught me. They shut me in my room for a week to starve. After my time was up, I decided to try surviving on my own. I started stealing from the markets. I only grabbed what I needed: maybe a banana and some bread. I could get water from a stream, and I knew all of the edible plants. They could have just left things for me to eat, so that I didn't need to steal. It would make it a lot easier on me, and they wouldn't have to go through the trouble of searching for me.

I get shot at every once in a while by arrows and such. The bounty hunters are the townsfolk. Everyone in town wants that money. And until another crook shows up, I'm their main target. They wear their work clothing; which is very easy to see from far away. They go two by two in a square around the city. They're not the happiest folk while looking for me. More like an angry mob of hungry wolves. If wolves were dumb and had human faces. They like to use throwing knives and archery. They need quite a bit of work on that. I must say; if you're going to be an archer, ask the elf for help. Don't attack the elf. Pitchforks? Not so much. I jump from house to house on the way to the market, and sprint back into the woods. Sometimes, Dagwood summons a tamed wolf for me to ride on the way back. I wear a mask made of petals from a black rose that Linnea had given me. She had called it a good luck charm. And so good luck it is. When an elf wears certain petals, it gives them certain powers and abilities. The black rose makes me invisible to the human eye. But that's the problem. My parents aren't human remember?

I have to avoid the other demons and such that live in the forest. They're partly our slaves. We went to war with them a while back. They surrendered and agreed to do as we requested. They still don't like us very much. They mostly sit in their homes in the darkest cave in the forest. A personal prison. No one can go into them besides the demons because the demons are bound to their will. Their will being, "well be your slaves if you don't kill us, and you give us a place to live". Which is why you don't make a deal with the devil.

The vampires don't care about us. They're too busy chasing after the alphas (wolves) in the forest. When they see us, they just scowl at us and go on their way. They saw what happened to the demons. They don't like our blood either. It's way too strong for them. They literally explode from the taste.

Since my family left the forest, we have been considered outcasts and traitors to the elven people. The throne was taken from my father and mother since they were the king and queen of the elves. The throne was given to Ferredir and Gallina. They gave me the choice to leave human kind forever, or have no place in the kingdom. "I stand on middle ground." I said. " I feel the need to do both. Because if I don't, there will be a war." Ferredir agreed that I would be allowed only what my family owned from our cottage.

It was more like a mansion in comparison to some cottages. It was made out of red wood. The rarest wood found in the forests of fallandor. The reason that Ferredir and Gallina haven't taken it, is because we placed a magic barrier there. A barrier that even elves can't enter. Only the family of the elf that placed it there. Dagwood and Kysa have their own homes. Dagwood lives under a willow tree. Kysa lives in an oak tree about a half of a mile away from me. She decorated it herself. Crystal-like ice flowers surround the exterior.

The interior was the same as the day we left. Brass plates and goblets, fine leather chairs, dad's book of spells, and weapons that were passed on to us by our ancestors. Linnea has been here a few times since I granted her access. In fact, she is a half-elf. Her ears don't change, but she is given the senses of one. I kind of accidentally placed a spell on her. It was for the best though; since I didn't want to alert the kingdom. In other words; if I didn't, she'd be dead by now. So, better safe than sorry. But no human can see the difference. She doesn't know that I placed the spell on her though because I mixed the spell with fairy dust that Kysa had given to me, and mixed that into Linnea's tea. I used to check up on her twice a week. I would go by my perch in the trees that overhangs the wall. I could always hear the villagers talking about what happened that night, or about my thieving. But I haven't checked on her in years. I might put that back into my schedule. Who knows? Maybe she doesn't even care for me anymore.

I hope she does. I don't fancy any of the elves in fallandor. But Linnea's kindness and beauty shines bright as the light of day. I'm 19 years old, but to humans, I'm more like 16 or 17. When elves reach 15, their aging starts slowing down, so they live longer than humans.

Chapter 3: Present day. I walked out of my cottage to the crisp chill of the Autumn air. Dagwood and Kysa were waiting for me. Today was a free day. They were anxious to figure out the plans for today. They were arguing playfully about what we should do, and for a while, I kind of let them. It's fun to watch them go back and forth, quarreling like children. "We're going to do something that we haven't done in a while. We're going to see Linnea at sundown." They knew that we couldn't see her in broad daylight. We would get caught way too easily. They're excited as ever. I think I'm going a bit too far by doing this. Getting caught by thievery is reasonable, but by trying to see a childhood crush is a dumb reason. Dagwood made the outside of the cottage look presentable for Linnea while Kysa picked out some recipes that I could cook. I felt childish, but I soon realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I smiled a little bit at the thought. I made a salad for Dagwood and I gave Kysa some iced tea. It's their favorite foods. At around sundown I had made soup for Linnea and I. As the sun set, I told Kysa to knock on Linnea's window and show her a message from me. The message read " I thought you might want to have dinner with me." I signed my name with ink that I made from berries around the forest. When Kysa returned, she had brought Linnea with her. She wore a silken white dress and her boots. Her hair was braided in the back. It almost reflected the lit candles on the table. She looked astounding. She was stunning.

"Hi." I said quietly.

"Hello Bercallion" she replied sweetly.

Gosh I missed the sound of her voice. Kysa told me that Linnea had given quite the speech earlier. We started making small talk while eating dinner. She was quite useful by telling me of the villagers. There was a new criminal in town. One of Apollo's enemies apparently. Someone who kills cows and tries to pin the blame on me. The bounty has gone up to 60 grand for my capture. I told her that I am too deeply engulfed in crime from my early years that I can't bear give in. I either steal or starve. She has this big idea that if I give in, they'll trust me again and have me work to put things right again. But it won't happen. The only villager in fallandor that I trust, is Linnea. I can't even trust my family. I feel anger start to boil inside of me and I start to cry.

"I feel like them. It's like they hate me and I have to hate them back. But I don't have to hate them."

She placed her hand on my shoulder.

"You'll be alright. We'll be alright. No one is going to hurt you. You're smart. Probably the smartest person inside of fallandor and out. You're fast. You can run with wolves; I've seen it. You've killed orcs in defense of your people and the village. You're a good person. I know you are. I wish others would know it too. I've wished that we would see each other again, and here we are. I still care for you Bercallion. My father keeps trying to set me up with other men, but I wait for the day when that man is you."

"I wish it could be. I wish for the day where you and I could be we. For years, I've been watching over you to make sure you're okay. I don't want anything to happen to you. I want you to be safe. I need to keep the villagers busy looking for me in their town to prevent them from burning the woods. Only elves could see the things that you've seen. The elves can't be seen through human eyes. The only elves that can be seen are the ones that aren't in the favor of the king and queen elf. I'm sorry to have hidden this from you for so long. You're half elf." Her eyes went wide, her knees buckled, and I caught her. I put on my mask and cloak, and brought her home. I got to the door easily. Getting her inside was the hard part. I knew it was risky, but I took off my cloak and placed it over her. I hoped that her father would expect that she went out with one of the townsfolk. I knelt down and kissed her forehead gently before leaving. The townsfolk were still gathering their things for the night watch. As I started back for my cottage, I heard a bow string being pulled back. My instincts started working double time. I heard it behind me. I spun around, expecting to meet my oppressor. I was right. My dad stood there looking at me with a disappointed look.

"Wait." I said.

He put down his bow and arrows. I quickly thought of something to say. People started leaving their houses and looking at my dad questionably. Then I noticed what roof we were on. As memories of the past began to flood my mind, people started to leave their houses. "I'm sorry dad" I thought. I took out my throwing knife out from the inside of my sleeve and with a flick of my wrist it was in my dad's side. I jumped down from the roof and ran as fast as I could into the woods. I knew that people had seen my dad get injured and that they would expect me to be on the roof. I heard arrows flying frantically through the air. I had escaped. But I left a trace behind. I didn't come back to steal, and I kept my dad alive.

Chapter 4:

Linnea:

Left alone on my front stoop, wrapped in his cloak, I felt like the happiest woman alive. Sure, he hadn't even said a proper farewell, leaving me with nothing more than a gentle peck on the forehead before disappearing into the night, but that was Bercallion for you: the mysterious thief, the outcast elf, the village boogie man, yet the most kind, gentle, loving, devoted, friendly, and considerate gentleman the world ever knew. An enigma. That's what he was, and enigma.

As for our little dinner party, things couldn't have gone any better. Well, okay maybe we could have done without my lovely thief breaking down and bursting into tears, and without the interesting little development wherein I found out that I was part elf. How does that even work anyhow? As far as I knew both my parents' bloodlines where onehundred percent pure human. I mean my mother's may not have been pure nobility like her mother would have liked, but she was deffinantly onehundred percent human...I think. No one had ever been born into the family with pointy ears or unusual sense of agility. We were incredibly graceful as far as humans go, but we weren't exactly the quickest on our feet. Also nobody had been born into the family with any uncaney supernatural abilities, besides my cousin who swore up and down that she was able to speak with the dead. Was that it? Was that the missing link? Is that where the elf portion had come from? I sighed heavily and shook my head to clear it. None of this made any sense to me in the least.

A gust of icy night wind shot through the crisp winter air as snow began to silently fall. The skirt of my favorite silken gown blew up a bit, and I pulled Bercallion's cloak tighter around me. I shivered in the cold of the midwinter evening, but I wasn't ready to go inside just yet. I sat down on the cracked and frozen cobblestone front stoop and gazed off in the direction Bercallion had disappeared. Off in the distance a small mob of night watchmen where starting to shout and cause a scene. My guess was that he had either taken the risk of snatching something on his way out, or that someone had seen him...probably one of his parents. The traitors. They carried a lot of resentment for their somewhat misguided son, though they could never see that it was them that had made him this way. All this being said, I still honestly believe that some part of them, especially his mother still loves him and worries about him. I mean why else would they refuse to hand over the identity of the infamous thief?

Many a time the parents of the chastised elf had been put on trial and threatened with death for not revealing the thief's true identity. After all, no other villagers as far as anybody knew, had ever actually seen the thief. This very notion made the townsfolk rather angry and often caused them to create a mob that chased after Bercallion's parents rather than him. Some of the people in the village had for a while suspected that his parents had been 'crying wolf' about actually seeing the thief, and when that concept wore it's self out eventually people had started to assume that they were the thieves. The mobs that went after them had burned down their home four times in the past year. Lucky for them, the local lord who ran Fallendor and the other villages in the area saw them as an asset. He had realized that the thief was anything but human and that fact was the reason that only the despised elf family could see him. Although the lord looked down at the elves more so than even the farmers, he still kept them from being burned at the stake or hung in the gallows, and rebuilt their little shack whenever the mob mentality overcame the locals again. Without the local lord, Bercallion's family would have been run out of town in a heartbeat.

I sighed, and shook my head a little, attempting to clear it of all the dark and disturbing things I knew about Bercallion's family. Then I decided that if the very loud and obnoxious mob that had formed was going to wake up the town, I was at least going to be in bed at least fake sleeping when my father was awoken by the ruckus. Otherwise, he would worry. He was always so paranoid when it came to the mobs, especially since just about every boy in town in his mind fancied me, and was in his words "prone to kidnapping when caught up in the negative energy that a mob carried." I ran my fingertips lightly over the spot where my darling thief's gentle kiss still lingered and decided that it was probably best that I headed inside.

As quickly and quietly, and silently as I could I opened the large oak door and tiptoed into my home. I slipped Bercallion's cloak (his only cloak mind you) and drapped it over my arm, as I made a mental note to place it in a box in the flowerbed 'round back in the morning for either Dagwood or Kysa to pick up in the morning. Bercallion wouldn't be coming to retrieve it; it was far too dangerous for him to return any time soon. In fact this was probably the last I was going to see of him for a long time. I slipped off my boots and began to pad lightly across the cobblestone floor in my stockinged feet towards the stairs. I hadn't made it very far when I heard a loud cough come from the center of our main living area where I knew my father's favorite armchair sat.

I froze in terror, sucked in my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. As my heart pounded in my chest, and adrenaline rushed into my veins, I prayed that my father had just fallen asleep at the fireside again, reading a book. However, the odds this particular evening seemed to be against me.

"And at what hour is this then?" came a deep, rich and terrifying voice from the same direction as the cough. I released my breath, opened my eyes and pivoted to face my father's dark outline just in time to see him strike a match and light a candle. My father's face usually wasn't in the least bit menacing, actually it was always rather warm and friendly, but now as he sat with his legs crossed and his face illuminated by nothing but a candle, I was terrified.

"It's past midnight you know. The hours of witches and daemons and here you are returning home after roaming about without a proper hat to protect your soul."

"Father I..." I began but he cut me off.

"Although I suppose we shouldn't dwell on the fact that you were out without a hat, for there are much more important matters to discuss. Now where should be begin. Ah yes, the ages old question...where were you!?"

I winced at the furious sound of his voice, and franticly searched my mind for an explanation that would both satisfy him and keep Bercallion safe.

"Out..." I replied hesitantly. Out? Was that really the best that I could come up with?

"Oh really, and with whom?"

"Does it really matter? Honestly, I'm not a child."

"Although you may not be a child any longer Linnea, according to the law you are to do as I say until you marry, and then you are to do as your husband says."

"Like that is ever going to happen! I have no intentions on following a man's orders for the rest of my life. Just because I am a lady it doesn't mean that I have to comply."

"Yes it does Linnea! You could be hung for disobeying orders."

"That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard of!"

"Be that as it may, these things happen. Although if I were you I would worry more about the owner of that cape being hung rather than yourself."

I felt the blood drain from my face, and could have sworn my heart skipped a beat. My gaze shot down at Bercallion's cloak. Had my father really figured out who it belonged to that quickly?

"What do you mean..." I asked hesitantly.

"Well when your fiance finds out that you have been running off in the middle of the night with some nameless man that wasn't himself, he is going to send out a search party to find him and kill him. He isn't to keen on the idea of you being with anyone but himself. That's the way he has always felt, and now since I agreed to allow him to marry you, he has a right to take action if he so wishes. You are his responsibility now."

I gasped, "I beg your pardon!"

My father smirked. I had always opposed the concept of marriage, and he knew that, and now he had a way to get back at me for running off in the middle of the night.

"Who is this mysterious suitor then? I demand you tell me!"

"Your old childhood friend Davian."

I was horriﬁed. Davian and I were not in the least way comparable. Sure, we had been childhood friends,but that all began to change as we got older. I despised the man he was today, and for good reason too. When we were really small he was very loving, kind and just a little bratty, but now as an adult he was obsessive and overbearing. He had been telling me for years that I was one day going to be his wife. Every time we would hang out together and another one of my male friends were to come along and run into us, I suddenly either had to go some place with Davian or if I stopped to chat, he became furious, and would act coldly and rudely toward my friend. He was among the extremely jealous types, and I could not stand that about him.

Not to mention the fact that he get up with relatively well oﬀ parents who hated to see him cry and always gave him everything he wanted. He was their only son and so his parents spoiled him rotten. Since he was handed everything as a child he expected the world to hand him everything as an adult. He was prone to being rude, demanding, domineering and violent if he didn't get his way. In fact, I recall an event that took place about two or so years ago where he had the bakers burned as a witch simply because she scolded him for using harsh language in front of me. You see, myself and the late baker's wife we're the only ones who ever knew that Davian had a dark side. The rest of the village and the world it seemed were brainwashed into believing that he was the exemplary gentleman, and so the only woman who knew his true colors had to be killed before she was able to say anything. The only reason I was still alive was because he was infatuated with me, and unfortunately he had my father wrapped around his little ﬁnger and would thus recieve his life long dream of marrying me...or so he thought.

Bercallion is the exact opposite. If the world owed anybody anything it wasn't to Davian, it was to Bercallion. Yet, somehow he never made a big deal out of it. Sure, he could have used theft as a way of vengeance on the townsfolk for what they did to cause the collapse of the relationship with his parents, and what they did to cause him to have to turn to theft as the only solution, but he didn't. He did what he did for survival and nothing else. From what I could tell, yes he saw his little heists as a game and an adrenaline rush, but he never saw it as a form of revenge. He wasn't greedy either. Even when he decided to test his skills by stealing a gem from the next village over, he didn't do it out of lust for wealth or power; He brought it back in the end.

Anyway, what made the whole situation as bad as it was, had nothing to do with the fact that I was betrothed to man who's ego I despised, and the fact that I was in love with someone else. No, the worst part about the whole ordeal was the fact that the man I was to marry was the very same man who was the head of the bounty hunters and night watchmen. He was the main man after my beloved thief, and the one with the most ruthless and cut-throat plan for his capture and demise. This fact made me so incredibly angry. Just the thought of it made the heat rise up inside of me and settle in my cheeks. It made my blood boil, and a long list of curses settle on the tip of my tongue. I knew my father only wanted what was best for me, but the idea of me being wed to the head of the bounty hunters was enough for me to want to tell him off right here and now. There were so many nasty things I could say to my father at this moment, but the nagging voice inside my head was rather convincing.

So, to follow my better judgment, I swallowed my rage and put on the best poker face I could muster considering the circumstances. Now, I had never been well known for my ability to hide what I was feeling, but I did hope that just this once I would be able to pull it off. I had to make my face cool and expressionless, like my mother's use to be when she was angry, so that maybe my father would get the hint that I did not fancy being engaged to shallow men without my own consent.

"So I guess that's it then." I said sharply, "I am to marry Davian. Isn't that just wonderful."

I must have been doing a rather good job with my poker face, for it appeared that my father had gotten the hint.

"It's for the best Linnea. If you haven't noticed, since your mother's and grandfather's deaths our little family has started t o go belly up. He has wealth Linnea, and because of that you can live out the rest of your days comfortably."

"Ohhhh, I see so that's what this is about. The almighty shilling. Well isn't that grand!"

"Linnea, please..."

"No! Don't 'Linnea, please' me! Did you ever think to ask if a life of comfort and wealth was what I really wanted? Did you ever think to ask if getting married was what I wanted? Oh, and did you ever think to ask if Davian was what I really wanted?"

"Linnea, you can't always have what you want. I did what was best for you!"

"That's a load of rubbish and you know it!", I screamed.

A glimmer of what I thought was understanding came into my father's eyes.

"...You have your heart set on someone else don't you...the owner of that cloak..."

I looked down at Bercallion's cape draped over my arm, and felt my poker face falter. I then snapped my gaze back to my father, "Goodnight father." I stated curtly before turning and stomping off to my bedroom.

Once upstairs, my mind shut down and I began to dangerously act on impulse. My heart knew where I wanted to go, and my mind was in no mood to argue. My body complied to my heart's orders without question, and soon without even knowing it was standing on my window ledge with my cloak wrapped around me and Bercallion's draped over my arm. The light snow that had been falling but a few minutes ago had turned to a freezing rain, and the villagers were all still occupied by their foolish riot. It was going to be easy for me to slip out of the village walls tonight. With the cover of the fog, distraction of the guards, and years of experience under my belt there was absolutely no way I was going to get caught.

I glanced around the street in front of my house, and made sure it was clear. One glance was all it really took, considering that my heart had set all of my senses on overdrive. I took in every detail, and processed it all in a matter of milliseconds. Then, without even thinking twice about what I was going to do, I leaped from my window and landed lightly on my feet on the front lawn. I then ran for cover in the shadows behind the other homes and businesses in the village, and kept to them until I came across the wall at the perimeter. Although the wall was a good ten feet tall and made of some kind of super smooth stone they found in a quarry near another town, I knew I could scale it without a problem. Bercallion had taught me the art of scaling the wall ages ago when we were younger so that I could leave town to visit without the villagers knowing that I had headed down the mountain. I scaled the wall, and then leaped into one of the trees that reached its branches out toward me. Then I hopped from tree to tree as quickly and quietly until I came across the hidden mountain path Dagwood had discovered years ago. The path was typically less dangerous on horseback, and during daylight, however tonight I did not have those luxuries. I climbed out of the tree I was currently sitting in and followed the path as carefully as I could down into the forest below.

After about a good two hours of walking and lots of tripping, falling, bleeding and shivering I reached the base of the mountain where the forest began. The rain was still going strong, pelting me incessently with icy droplets that painfully shattered when they came in contact with my exposed skin. At the base of the mountain, far from the light of the village everything was pitch black, and there was a rather ominous feeling in the air. Thanks to the clouds there was no moon or stars to guide me, leaving me to fumble my way through the mangled branches of the forest. The trees, usually so inviting and comfortable during the day time were now full of death traps. Spiderwebs, wolves howling in the distance, bats, invisible snow drifts, falling iceicles, and hidden tree roots all were the cause of much screaming, tripping and falling during my forest trek.

After what felt like forever, the sun finally rose, and that's when I knew I was in trouble. I had been wandering around for hours, compelled by this need to find Bercallion that it never occcured to me that perhaps I had been going in the wrong direction. I had tripped and slipped and banged my head so many times through the night that I could have easily gotten myself turned in the wrong direction. It was also pitch black the night before so I could have easily missed the tun off to his house. As I took my first real look at my surroundings, I realized that I had no clue where I was at all.

Suddenly, I became the most afraid I had ever been in my entire life. I was lost out in a thick and massive forested area where everything pretty much looked exactly the same, soaking wet in the middle of winter with orcs, evil elves, werewolves, dark pixies, vampires and trolls around every bend. Not to mention that I was also starving, freezing and exhausted. If I didn't keep moving and find some kind of shelter soon...I was done for.

I kept on walking straight ahead until what I assumed by the sun to be around mid day. I had not made much progress considering the deeper the woods became, the deeper the snow became. I also had spent a great deal of time falling over and stumbling my way through things. This time though, it wasn't because I couldn't see. No, something was wrong. My muscles were refusing to work. My fingers and toes had also lost all feeling in them, and when I took a peek, they had turned blue at the tips. My shivering was the worst it had ever been in my entire life. I also started to feel like I was forgetting things. As I treked forward, my mind wandered to my past but the details were all fuzzy. I couldn't remember my mother's name or my father's for that matter, and for a moment I even forgot Bercallion's. It was at this point, and mid-day, lost and afraid in the woods of Fallendor, that I once again stumbled forward, fell and this time couldn't get up. There was a sharp pain in my ankle that I was sure twisted somehow when I fell, but I didn't care. All I knew was that suddenly I was so very sleepy. All I wanted more than anything was to curl up in a ball and sleep. And so, that was exactly what I did. With what little strength I had left, I hugged my cape close to me, draped Bercallion's over my body, placed my hands under my head, and slowly drifted off...

Chapter 5

I open my eyes and I'm exhausted from the night before. Memories start to flood back to me about the knife in my dad's side and my cape that now lies with Linnea. I must admit, I don't feel too bad about what I did to my dad. It seemed like the only possible escape. I had to take my chances. Besides, elves heal fast. He'll be fine. All of a sudden I get a chill up my spine. Linnea. She's in trouble. I have an empathy link to her. I quickly look outside. Dagwood is carrying her in his arms. Thank goodness. If Dagwood had found her any later, I wouldn't be able to heal her. She's cold as the pure driven snow clutching my cape in her frosted hands. I grab her, and quickly carry her inside. I put her on a red leather chair. An enchantment chair. I took her hands in mine, Focused, and I spoke the elven word for heat. Urulóki. Light shimmered around her for a split second and then she opened her eyes and color returned to her face. "What happened?" She said curiously. "You got frostbite." Why were you in the forest in the first place?" She explained that her dad had arranged for her to marry Davian. The head bounty hunter. He was quite the rotten apple. You could smell him from a mile. He's the reason I started making candles to put around my house. Just kidding. That's to keep the house warm. I make candles to sell to the elves on the black market. That's the only good that I'm used for with the elves. I might use the money as a getaway, but I'm not sure they're going to let me off that easily after 14 years of trying to catch me. Sometimes I give Dagwood and Kysa money to buy stuff for me if I'm not in the mood for thieving. Other times, they just buy sweets for themselves. Linnea wanted me to keep her safe. That of course, meant that the villagers are going to think that I stole Linnea. I pull a chair up next to Linnea's and I tell her that it's going to be alright.

"Nothing's going to hurt you. I'm here for you" I say calmingly.

"Davian has a mob. They'll find you, and they'll kill you" She replies in a worried tone.

She decided to fall asleep because she was exhausted. There was a knock at the door. Without waking Linnea, I answered it. To my surprise, it was Ferredir. He gave me a parchment along with a glare. Then he turned around and left. Great king he is. I closed the door and opened the parchment. It read "You are to go to the council of the elves at mid-day. There is no need to bring your weapons. If you do however, we will have to kill you. Even so, don't bring the human. We will have no need of her. You are to speak concerning your involvement with the humans." Great. My favorite. Speeches. Talk fast, be smart, make your point, and be the smartest one in the room. It's harder to other people because they prepare, but i have nothing to lose. I either am accepted by the elves (highly unlikely) or I just give them more reason to hate me. In the end, I'll probably end up doing both. But what about Linnea? I'll just let Dagwood take care of her. She'll be fine. I got into my most presentable clothes before leaving to walk to the meeting. I arrived, and received the welcoming glares and whispers from all of the elves in the council. Ferredir called us to the long oak wood table inside the castle. There were redwood pillars that surrounded the room. Everyone sat down and listened intently as Ferredir spoke. He said " We are gathered here to listen to what bercallion has to say on behalf of the human kind. A second chance has been requested by one of our elven people. Bercallion?" I stand up, still puzzled by the mention of getting requested to come back. I began " Right. First off, I would like to tell you that the humans are scared that we are a start to a invasion. If they continue to believe this, they will burn down this forest. Every tree,Leaf, and branch. We will cease to exist if this continues. I have the need of keeping them on the search for me. They don't know where I am. The mask I wear will have to come off at some point. As for Linnea, I enchanted her years ago. She is part elf. She sees everything that we see. I am her protector. By her request. Now, with me stealing from the villagers, they're going to be outraged at some point. But I will do my best to keep them occupied. They will come at some point, so we need to be ready. No elf will die as long as no human dies. But if any elf kills a human, they will put every elf at risk. Do not engage with the humans. Only traps. No archers or knives will be used. I'm positive that they will not come very soon. They're afraid of us. If I may know the person that requested my second chance, they might become of great use to me. My job is dangerous yes, but it is is also great fun." I left it at that and sat back down in my chair. Then, Ferredir stood and said "Melandra. She gave you that second chance. You should be lucky that you are favored by much of the elves that once wanted to kill you just as much as the villagers now. To us elves, you are not a villain or a hero. You are an asset to our survival. We could have given you away to them a long time ago. I'd hate to say it Bercallion, but we have no other option except to make you head commander of our people. I still rule over our people, but you tell us what we need to do to do to survive." Then he said "Extîohan." Which translates to: leave. As I left, I was really quite proud with what I had said. I have a feeling that I know this melandra person, but whoever she is, I need to speak with her. At least to thank her if nothing else. When I got back home, The spell book was open, and the house was a mess. Linnea was on the couch crying. "It's alright Linnea. I can clean it. Why were you trying to use magic anyways?" I said. "I don't know. I had been asleep, and next thing you know, I woke up with the book in my hands, and the house was a mess." She said. Great. It's her. It's not my dad's spell book. It's hers. But she isn't an elf. She's a normal human. Every couple of pages in the book had two initials. M.T. I looked at the open book and it showed that the initials were there. I looked into the book that translates names, and Linnea translated into melandra. How could this be possible? I had never seen anything like it. Ever.

Chapter 6

Yes, the house was a total and utter desaster and it was all my fault. I don't know how I managed it...I thought I wasn't suppose to be able to read the words in that book, let alone pernounce them. In fact, I don't even think I said them correctly, for all I know I could have just doomed the moon to implode in on its self...Oh no! I could be hung for witchcraft!

I gasped aloud and dropped the broom I had been using to help tidy the mess I had made. It hit the hard wooden floor with a loud "clank" and Bercallion's big brown eyes flicked to my face. They were brimming with concern.

"Is everything..." He began cautiously.

"Perfect!" I interrupted, "Just...a beetle." I lied for the second time today. I hated lying to Bercallion, and I knew I was inevitably going to get caught, and he was going to be angry. I just...I just couldn't let him know what I had done. After all, he had one rule I had to follow as a guest in his house...a rule he had laid out clear as day the first time I came to see him at his home all those years ago: Don't ever touch the Book of Spells...and I had broken it. I was weak, and wanted nothing more than a normal life. A life where he didn't have to run from the law and I wasn't engaged to a deranged maniac.

I hadn't randomly awoken with the spell book in my arms and the house a mess...that was all a result of my rebellious rule-breaking. The randomly waking part was sort of a half lie to distract from the truth. I had been looking for a spell to rid the villagers' minds of anything and everything having to do with me or Bercallion, so that we could both be free and live happily ever after. That was my dream, and I wanted it desperately enough to brake the only rule placed before me and enough to sacrafice my father ever recognizing me again. My selfishness paid a price in the end.

When I picked up that book, and spoke the words of the spell, there was this...connection and I was so proud of myself. I thought I had accomplished something. But then, everything turned wrong. The room filled with swirling wind that knocked the breath out of me and objects to levitate. I was terrified! I tried to scream, but no sound would come out. My ears filled with an awful ringing, and I clamped my hands over them just to find out that the sound was coming from inside my head. Then...I blacked out. I don't know how long I was gone, or what happened in that time frame. All I know is that when I awoke, Bercallion was standing in the doorway in mute horror.

I told him the first thing that came to mind that contained some sort of truth. I had been asleep, or rather unconscious, and when I awoke the house was a mess and the book was in my arms. Unfortunately that didn't stop him from freaking out. He snatched the book out of my arms and flipped through the pages faster than a hummingbird's wings. When he found the page he was looking for, his face paled and he turned on my with the most bewildered look in his eyes. He looked at me as if I was a stranger...That's when I suggested we clean the house and rid it of any evidance that any of this had ever happened. Thankfully, Bercallion had no quarrels with that.

Suddenly, there was a quiet knock at the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my beloved thief freeze and his back stiffen. He sat there a moment, using his super-sensitive ears to listen intently. He rose slowly from the spot he had been polishing on the floor with his rag, and with a flick of his wrist and a mumble under his breath, opened the front door. To no surprise to either of us, Dagwood and Kysa entered the tiny one room cottage.

When Kysa saw me, she threw herself into my arms and pulled me into a tight bear hug.

"LIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLAAAAA!" she exclaimed, spinning me around in circles.

I gently pushed her off and huffed, "Kysa, you act as if you are surprised I'm still here...and don't call me that!"

She fluttered her wings and began to hover over the floor. Excited sparks of fairy dust danced around the toes of her crystal ballet slippers.

"Well, I am surprised! I thought Bercallion would have sent you home by now considering what happened at the meeting, and what's going on in the village."

"Meeting?" I inquired, as I whipped my gaze in Bercallion's direction, "What meeting?"

He shot Kysa a curious look. I couldn't decide if it was because he hadn't the foggiest idea what she was talking about, was playing innocent, or had no idea she knew anything about said "meeting."

Dagwood waddled into the room and took a seat on his favorite chair, a tiny yet sturdy apple wood stool near the fire place. His baggy, patch-work clothes and well worn slouchy, pointed hat seemed to swallow him today. As did his various wrinkles and thick white facial hair. He must have spent the whole day reading again, for he seemed older than he usually did. It was a shame that the wiser he became the older he seemed to look, for he was only 175, still quite young for a gnome.

"Kysa, you do realize you just admitted to a crime against the elven counsel...listening in on meetings is strictly prohibited. You could get into serious trouble." Dagwood warned in his thick, grandfatherly voice.

"Oh I really do doubt that!" Kysa retorted, "After all, Bercallion is in charge now and I highly doubt he is going to kill his clumsy yet loveable best fairy friend." she batted her eyelashes and flipped her hair.

"Wait...Bercallion? In charge? Of what exactly!?" I asked in shock.

Bercallion sighed and plopped down into his enchantment chair. "Well...I was going to wait until after things got settled around here first to tell you, but I guess that can wait..."He began, shooting Kysa a cold look.

"Getting settled? Is that what you ruffian types are calling it these days?" Kysa giggled as she lightly perched herself on the windowsill bench, " I mean really Berkie, your house is a pigsty! This place is so ransacked, you would think a thief lives here. I mean honestly!"

It was Dagwood's turn to shoot her a cold look.

She stuck out her tongue at him, "Just remember dogwood, I'm an ice fairy; No matter how many icy looks you shoot me, they will never hurt me."

Dagwood shook his head sadly, " Name calling and a 'sticks and stones will break my bones' reference all in one go. You know sometimes Kysa I wonder if you are two years old rather than two thousand."

"Don't even go there bookworm! I happen to know that you..."

"Silence!" Bercallion ordered. Kysa and Dagwood fell instantly quiet. "Thank you. Now may I continue with my explanation, or are you two going to continue to waste time with your childish banter?"

Kysa hung her head and pouted, "No Bercallion." she mumbled in a sing-songy voice. She really was rather childish.

Dagwood just huffed and meandered over to his trunk of books in the corner of the room. He had read them each at least half a dozen times, yet he never seemed to get bored with the theories behind alchemy and the mechanics of wizardry. I made a mental note to buy a new novel on geology or something the next time I was in the market square...If I ever returned to the market square.

The next half hour or so was then filled with fanciful tale of Bercallion's call to the elven counsel, and how he had inadvertently become the military leader and peace keeper of the elven people. He seemed to put huge emphasis on the part of the story where it was mentioned that I was under his protection and that if any harm should come to me, the elf who caused said harm would be killed...no questions asked. Although I never really thought of Bercallion as a man capable of taking another creature's life, I guess it sort of made me feel rather pleasant inside knowing that he was planning on keeping his promise to me. I was happy that he was going to protect me at all costs, yet some part of me hoped that the death threats to the other elves were nothing more than that...threats.

All this being said, he had told me that laying low was probably what was best for all of us for a while. The elven royals didn't know he had a stray half-breed who had run away from her arranged wedding staying in his home, and quite frankly they didn't need to. If an elf came to the door, I was to hide in the closet and stay there until they left. No one was to know I was here.

As for Bercallion, he wasn't to make any trips to the village any time soon. My father had not only alerted Davian of my absence, but the rest of the village as well. Since my family was the only one not to have suffered at the hands of the "Blackrose"...It was suspected that the town thief had stolen me. Supposedly Davian had the watchmen on double duty, and the mobs were ten times as bad and as frequent as they use to be. Apparently there were search parties in the woods and other towns as well. Bercallion had to be extra careful. He couldn't rob my village, I couldn't return to send him supplies, and the other villages were occupied by search parties...his skills were really going to be put to the test. It was succeed, get caught, or starve...that was his life now. He couldn't ask the other elves for help, for they were on the brink of war with the humans, and he refused to let Kysa and Dagwood get caught up in the midts of everything. He was more alone than he had ever been before...and it was all my fault.

Why, of all places had I decided that it was safe to run here...

Later after dinner, when Dagwood had left to go retrive their overnight bags, I stood in the corner of the room bent over a wash tub of warm water cleaning the dishes. Bercallion reclined in his enchantment chair silently observing my every movement. He wasn't happy that I had insisted on cleaning the dinner plates; In his mind I was his guest, and should have no other responsibility than to be entertained by him. I however refused to accept his absurd logic. Yes, I was his guest, but I was also a run away bride hiding in his home when everyone assumed he had kidnapped me. I was putting him at risk. The least I could do was help keep the house tidy.

As I finished cleaning the leftover stew that had clung to the inside of an old wooden bowl, I wiped my hands on the skirt of my favorite silk dress that had become ragged and filthy due to the events of the last two days. For some reason this seemed to bother him. He sat straight up on the edge of his chair and gazed at me curiously for a moment. Then before I knew it, he was standing next to me, taking my hands into his and drying them with a rag he seemed to have pulled out of thin air.

It was my turn to gaze at him curiously. "Is there a problem?" I asked him confused.

He looked at my with a rather saddened expression in his eyes, "That's your favorite dress..."

I sighed and shrugged, "Nothing more than a rag now, considering everything Iv'e been through since dinner last night. What with getting lost in the woods, getting frost bite and hypothermia, and the random magical tornado in the house, I'm honestly baffled at the fact that it has survived this long."

"It was your mothers."

I looked down at the tattered, mud stained skirt and soot streaked boddice and felt a tear slide down my cheek. I looked away from his gaze, embassed. "It's just a dress." I managed to choke out.

He caught my tear with his thumb and gently placed his finger under my chin. I blushed. Butterflies filled my stomach.

"It isn't proper for a lady to wander around in a ragged dress like that."

"Yeah, well I haven't got a choice now do I."

He dropped my chin and stepped backwards away from me. My heart dropped. He stood back for a moment, and looked me up and down as if apraising me. Next thing I knew he was flying about the small room searching for something. He moved so quickly I didn't even have a chance to ask him what he was looking for before he was digging a trunk out from under a pile of Dagwood's books in the corner of the room. He popped open the ancient, brown leather lid and pulled out a rather familiar looking tunic.

It was black and made out of some kind of material I didn't know the name of, but had seen him wear every day since we had met, and had never seen any of the villagers wear. I had always assumed it was some of that hand woven elf fabric that the people of his old kingdom were famous for. The tunic was thin and light weight and came with a pair of khaki pants and a black long-sleeve button up undershirt. He also pulled out a wide and worn leather belt. He walked across the room and handed me the ensamble.

"Unfortunately my mother took all of her old dresses with her when we moved so this is the best I can do, but for now it should do the trick."

I looked down at the pile of clothes in my arms and then back up at him, not sure what to say.

He smiled at me, "Thanks to my situation, as you know I was quite the thin teenager, and I happen to be a rather tall for an elf. It should fit in the waist, but everything might be a little long. Who knows, perhaps it will be a dress in the end."

"Bercallion,I-I couldn't..."

His smile faded some, "And why not?"

"You only own like two pairs of clothes..."

"Linnea," he chuckled, "I out grew those ages ago. Thanks to you, I'm not as sickeningly skinny as I was back then, and I've gained some muscle. Besides, what am I going to do with them, they are only taking up space."

"You could scrap them, or trade them, or..."

"I'm a thief Linnea, I don't trade." his voice became suddenly hard.

I ran my fingers nervously through my messy hair.

He smiled and pulled Kysa's hairbrush off the nearby fireplace mantel and placed it on top of the pile of clothes. Then he silently turned and headed out the door, taking his bow and quiver of arrows with him. Somehow I managed to figure out that this was my cue to change and brush my hair.

Bercallion's Tunic was not only slightly large length wise but also in general. I wasn't necissarily swimming in it, yet at the same time it wasn't as fitted as my dress had been. It was light and comfortable as well as incredably warm. I had been tempted to wrap my cloak around me in the house while I was wearing my dress, but out of fear of not being lady-like I didn't. Now, I was almost too warm. My hair was also a little big on me too. After brushing it trough with Kysa's brush it decided it was going to puff up and cling to everything (which isn't a pretty sight when you have hair down to your waist. After fussing with it a bit and failing I decided to give up and read a book. When Bercallion returned, I was sitting in front of the fireplace half asleep and bent over some heavy novel about pirates in the gulf on the other side of the world.

"Linnea?" Bercallion asked bemused, "What are you doing?"

"Reading about pirates..." I replied groggily.

He knelt down and pulled the book out of my lap, "Are you sure? Because this book is upside down...and about how the moon effects human tempers."

I Looked up at him confused and exhausted, "Are you sure? I thought I read something about pirates."

He rose and hung three dead rabbits from the mantel to bleed into a bucket, and leaned his bow against the dinner table.

"Positive."

I rose to my feet, and wobbled a little. I was so tired I couldn't even balance properly. "So what do you want to do now? Game of tick-tack-toe? Late night hike?" I asked, my words slurring some.

"Linnea you are my guest, I'm suppose to intertain you. Also, I would appreciate it if you didn't pretend you weren't exhausted for my sake."

I felt my eyes flutter some. "I nom sawsssedddd..." I argued, my words now really slurred.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Fine." I sighed, "Good night." I pulled Dagwood's scarf off his stool, scrunched it into a ball, layed down on the rug, placed it under my head, closed my eyes, and pulled my cloak over me as a blanket.

I heard Bercallion sigh aggitatedly, and then felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"How many times Linnea...You are my guest and I am a gentleman..." He grumbled as he carried me across the room and placed me gently in his bed, "If anyone is going to be sleeping on the floor, It's me." He pulled his thick quilt that I had made him up to my chin.

I tried to pull the covers back down and argue but my limbs were heavy and slow. By the time my hands had even recived the message to try and pull the blanket off, Bercallion had already gently shoved them away.

"Bercalllnn, I fusee let you sleepda flrr." I mumbled groggily.

He chuckled, "Linnea, you asked me to keep you safe. Part of that is looking after you the best that I can, and part of it means being your protector. Elven worriers always sleep by the door in case of an attack, and that's what I intend to do. Now hush, get some sleep. You have had a very trying day."

At this point I wasn't concious enough to reply. He gently kissed my forehead as he always did, and whispered something in my ear. I was too far gone at this point to make out what he had said, but it sounded an awful lot like "I scrub shoes..." And then I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke at dawn for absolutely no other reason than the fact that I was resteless. I laid in bed for a few minutes while my mind finished waking up. When I was finally able to think clearly, I shot up in bed. It wasn't "I shine shoes" he had whispered in my ear last night...

"He said 'I love you!'" I all but shouted. Dagwood shifted in his sleep, and Kysa's eyes fluttered open. Bercallion was sleeping like a log.

"Some protector you are." I mumbled beneath my breath.

Kysa giggled, stretched. She had been sleeping scrunched up on the windowsill bench all night.

"He may not wake to the sound of a tiny human girl's fanciful outburst, but if another elf comes sneaking up the front path, you know those supersonic ears of his will pick it up." She yawned.

I sighed and climbed out of bed, "It wasn't a fantasy and it wasn't a dream. He told me he loves me."

Kysa smiled, stood up and fluttered her wings, "I'm just teasing. Belive me, this may be the first time you have heard it, but scholar boy and I had to hear it at least a thousand times a day when you weren't here." She deepened her voice to mimic Bercallions, "I should go spy on Linnea. I miss Linnea. I need to see Linnea again. I love her. She's so beautiful." her voice returned to normal "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah."

I could feel my face blushing a deep red. "I'm sure you are exagerating..."

"And I'm sure I'm not. Dagwood is my witness."

"He-he can't feel that strongly about me..." My heart fluttered in my chest.

"Believe what you want but that boy was stabbed by Cupid's arrow deep a looooooooonnnnngggggggg time ago."

My face got even hotter.

"Hey, your hair is sort of a mess, mind if I braid it?"

"No not really, as long as you don't use that infernal brush of yours on the mantel."

"Um...I don't have a brush here...only Dagwood does...and it's to fluff up his beard."

My face paled, "That would explain everything..."

Two or so later Kysa and I were crouched down in the bushes outside my village home, spying on my father. I'm not entirely sure how we ended up here, but we did. It started off as Kysa braiding my hair, then us sneaking out the window to find berries for breakfast because Bercallion was blocking the door, then the berry hunt lead to Kysa's secret clearing where she gets her wild flowers...and then I guess we somehow ended up heading here.

Inside my old home, the one I had run away from, it seemed as though no one was home. Knowing my father he was probably out looking for me...or listening to and actually believing one of Davian's stories about how he helps the needy and "loves me ever so much". Just the thought of it made my stomach turn.

Beside me Kysa was yawning again. "Linnea, I'm bored. You said this would be an adventure."

"It is now hush!." I whispered.

"But nobody's even home, and Berkie is going to kill us when he finds out we came here. If something happens to us, he can't come and help. It's too risky, for all of us."

"Since when are you the voice of reason?" I continued to spy on my empty livingroom.

"Since I have this bad feeling that we are going to get caught."

"We are not going to get caught." I growled agitated.

"Maybe not now, but Bercallion will find out. He knows the smell of the village...he will smell the village on us!"

"He's not going to find out now hush!" I shouted.

There was a short and heavy pause between us as the leaves we were hiding behind rustled and eventually parted.

"Who's not going to find out what?" inquired a smooth and rich male voice belonging to the man who had now discovered our secret hiding place. The man was huge. He was a solid wall of walking muscle with a short, thick neck and a squareish head. He was tan with thick curly locks of dark brown hair and smooth eyebrows that were so furry they could be mistaken for caterpillars. His brown eyes were huge and were framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His complexion was smooth and his teeth were glaringly white. By any ordinary woman's standards, he would have been the epidemy of handsome.

"Hello gorgeous!" Kysa exclaimed. I instantly clamped my hand over her mouth.

"Hello Davian..." I mumbled nervously.

Kysa pushed my hand away from her mouth. "Davian? You mean this hunk of a fiance is the reason you ran away from home! Come on Linnea, are you crazy? He is much better looking than Berkie!"

I shot her a dark look.

"Berkie?" Davian inquired, jeallousy edging into his voice.

"An old childhood crush from another town that I no longer talk to. In fact I only ever met him once." I replied quickly.

Kysa, finally getting the hint, smiled and nodded in agreement.

Davian shook his head, "Never mind that Linnea. The true question is where on this green Earth have you been? You have had myself and your father worried sick."

"I've been...around." I replied vaguely. Davian was being far too nice about this, he was definnately up to something.

"I'm not your father Linnea, vague answers don't work on me. Where have you been! Everyone thought you were kidnapped!" His eyes filled with fake concern, and he tried to take my face into his hands. I slapped them away.

Kysa winced and shot me a look that said "Aren't you being a little cold?"

I returned the glace that said "If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to tell Dagwood what you used his brush for earlier today." Then I returned my focus to Davian.

"Who in the world would want to kidnap me besides you?!" I spat.

Davian looked hurt, "Why would I want to kidnap you? You are my fiance and I love you."

"I've heard that one before. Now come on, tell me who you've been telling kidnapped me."

"Why the Blackrose of corse. He's taken something from everyone in town accept for you and your father and so we all assumed that he had something special in store for your family. When you went missing, we thought that maybe his biggest robbery yet was that of the town's most desired beauty."

"You can stop it with the flattery Davian. I was staying with a friend for a bit and forgot to tell my dad. Now who is 'we'?"

"'We' refers to the bounty hunters and vigalanties, now who is this 'friend'?" his jealousy was creeping in again.

I jerked my head in the direction of Kysa, "Kysa."

Davian laughed, "A fairy. You mean to tell me that this little beauty is not your personal 'three wishes' servant?"

Kysa looked hurt.

"No, she is my friend. Or do you not understand what that word means, considering you always use your 'friends' as servants."

Davian looked hurt again, "No love, you are right, that was rude of me." He took Kysa's delicate and thin hands in his huge meaty ones, "Forgive me ice princess, for I have wronged you."

Kysa blushed a pale pink. "Um..."

"Please, join me dear Kysa as I return my fiance safely to her father."

"Beg pardon?" I shouted, appauled.

"Your father misses you greatly, it would be wise for you to swallow your pride and appologise for your disappearance. Come my darling wife to be, you shall ride on horseback with me." He picked me up and placed me on the back of his dispicable elf hunting beast and called over his shoulder to Kysa, "Would you care for a ride too winter queen?"

"Um...sure?" she replied confused. She then mumbled a spell to turn her wings invisable and hopped up on the back of the horse belonging to Davian's second in command. Reluctantly, Kysa and I held on to our drivers as they guided us through the town. It wasn't until it was too late that I realized that where we were headed, was not to visit my father.

Davian lead us to his house, where he claimed my father would be there inside, waiting. I didn't buy this. He may have his second in command fooled, and he may have Kysa fooled, but I was not about to be fooled too. As soon as I jumped down off his horse I took off running. I didn't get very far before Davian blocked my path, scooped me up into his arms, gave me a lecture about appologising to my father and carried me into his house. Kysa followed behind giggleing at my scolding and the second in command left with his horse. Keeping up the act, that's all Davian was doing. His right had man had to believe him a good person or word would get out. Everything changed once we were inside his home.

He closed and locked the door behind the three of us just as Kysa's wing spell faded. Her magic really needed some work. It was after the world was completely shut out that the true Davian could be seen. He placed me upright on the floor in front of him, rolled up his sleeve, wound up his arm, and slapped me clear across the face with a loud "SMACK!" I fell flat on my backside, stunned. Beside me Kysa stood in mute shock and horror. Tears flooded to my eyes, my face stung and blood gushed out of my lip and a gash on the side of my forehead. Davian glared down at me with hatred in his eyes.

After a moment, tears of pain turned to tears of rage and I turned on Davian.

"And what was that for?" I screamed at him, my words coated in acid.

"For throwing a tantrum about being engaged to me. Your father told me about that one. That was also for leaving town without my permission, and seeing another man!" Davian spat.

"I don't need your permission to live the way I want to!" I seethed.

"I'm your fiancé, so according to law you do!" He laughed, "And for running off and seeing another man, which you can't deny because you are wearing his tunic, there will be some reprimanding. That slap across the face was just the beginning."

I rose to my feet and got into his face, "Yeah? And what about your little witness over there?" I jabbed my thumb in Kysa's direction, "did you forget about her?"

Davian slapped me across the face again and knocked me back to the ground. Kysa stood stunned and terrified, mouth agape as he pulled her into his powerful grip. She was defenseless.

"She's a fairy. Break her wings, they bleed out in a few hours and then you collect the pixie dust to grant your own wishes."

Kysa now realizing what was going on started to panic and squirm in his arms. Davian held her tighter with one arm, and used his free hand to snap the top half of each of Kysa's delicate ice wings clean off. A pool of water began to flood to the floor and Kysa screamed out in pain. Her face paled and her body slumped over in Davian's arms.

"Ice fairy...almost too easy to shatter these wings." Davian laughed as he opened his cellar door and tossed poor Kysa's nearly lifeless body down into it along with the parts of her wings he broke off.

When he was finished with her he grabbed me and held a knife to my head. I thought he was going to kill me, but what he did instead was worse. In one foul swoop, he took my waist length hair and cut it to above my ears. I know it was petty, but I too screamed out in horror as I watched the braid fall to the floor. Then he took me and threw me down into the cellar With Kysa.

"You are officially under house arrest until you can learn to be a better wife!" Davian shouted as he slammed the cellar door shut and locked it. He continued to laugh his cruel laugh as he walked away.

As I sat alone, heartbroken, bleeding, and with a possible broken ankle in a puddle in Davian's cellar, three things came to mind. As I sobbed my heart out, and attempted to tend to Kysa's wounds in the pitch black, I thought to myself that she was right. We shouldn't have run off and disobeyed Bercallion's words of advice. He was usually right about these things. I also thought of how whether he was angry with me or not, what I wanted more than anything was for him to find us soon...before Kysa was no longer. The last thing that came to mind was the hope that the puddle I was sitting in, was just water, and not Kysa's water-like blood.

Chapter 7

The next day, I still didn't know what Linnea had to do with melandra, so I decided to look into it. I told Dagwood to keep Linnea and Kysa from doing anything stupid while I was gone. I went to Ferredir and asked to speak to Melandra. In about a half an hour, I found her tree house. I knocked on the redwood door and the door opened. "Hello?" Said Melandra. But here's the weird part, she sounded just like Linnea. Even so, when she came down from the spiraled oak staircase, she looked just like Linnea. "Linnea? What are you doing here?" I asked. "First off, I'm Melandra. Second, Linnea shouldn't exist. And lastly, what in demons name are you doing here." I thanked her for the second chance with the elves. I explained about what had happened with Linnea. Melandra then told me something that was very difficult to understand. Melandra had wanted to become a human, but the spell went wrong. Instead of turning herself human, her body shone like the sun, and when the lights dimmed, there were two copies of her one was human, one was an elf. Melandra got the elf copy, Linnea got the human copy. They were polar opposites. Melandra was always upset, and Linnea was always happy go lucky. Melandra threw Linnea over to the villagers to get rid of what she could never have. A second chance at life. She wouldn't tell me anything else, so she told me to leave. I decided to do as she asked. When I got home, Dagwood looked at me with scornful eyes. Linnea and Kysa were gone.

I sprinted to the wall that separated the forest from the village, while fearing the worst. I've learned that Linnea's dad can have quite the temper. Or maybe the villagers could be holding them hostage to try and find me. Well, they'd get their wish. I looked over the fence to see what was happening. Villagers were bustling about as usual. The strange thing is that Davian wasn't outside. He has a job in the blacksmith shop from sunrise to sunset, so there's really no reason for him not to be out and about. Even stranger, he was the only one that wasn't outside. It was rather peculiar. Then, I saw something shimmering through the window. Kysa's wings. Then, I saw them fall to the ground. I jumped off of the fence and roof sprinted from house to house until I reached Davian's. I smashed the windows and invited myself in. Once I was inside, I took off my mask and revealed myself to Davian. Kysa was in a cage with her wings snapped. Water was pooling at her feet. Linnea was tied to a chair. My heart was beating four times faster than it should be. Without thinking, I threw one of my throwing knives at Davian. He caught it before it collided with his shoulder.

"We've been expecting you. The black rose thief. I never thought we would be meeting like this. Are you here to steal some bread perhaps?" He taunted.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you didn't do this to my friends." I shot back.

I had more weapon choices, but I only use them if I have to. I quickly grabbed a fintia from my cloak pocket. A Fintia is a wooden pin that shoots acid when it hits its target. I threw it as hard as I could, and it hit him in the chest. Fintia acid is supposed to kill whatever it hits. The problem is, it didn't kill him. It only drew blood. A lot of blood yes, but not enough to kill him. I broke the bars of kysa's cage, and cut the ropes off of Linnea's legs. Kysa was still in extreme pain. Her powers were completely drained. Without thinking, I placed my hands on kysa's shoulder blades where her wings used to be. I whispered the elvish word for freeze."Heleg". Instantly, ice began to form. Her wings would have to grow again, but at least she would live.

Davian wasn't going anywhere soon, so I grabbed my throwing knife, put on my mask, and brought everyone back to the cottage in the woods.

"Where were you?" Asked Linnea.

"I had work to do. I told Dagwood to keep an eye on you but apparently, that didn't work very well."

He probably was reading scrolls again. I swear. I can't handle him being a wise owl the whole time. He loses track of time, and apparently our little family that we've made. Dagwood is the grandpa; Linnea is the mom, I'm the dad, and Kysa the kid. Our little clan.

"Yeah, that was our fault. We gave him a scroll of jokes." Said Kysa jokingly.

"Kysa, you're as old as ice itself, and yet you still never grow up. And I like that about you, but there's times where you have to do the right thing. And making Dagwood dumb? That's not very smart. What were you guys doing in the village anyways?" I said.

"It was my idea. I wanted to spy on Davian. To see what his plan was. You know, because everyone thinks that you kidnapped me. But Davian found Kysa and I. We're really sorry." Said Linnea.

"I won't say that it's alright, because it isn't. But curiosity killed the nymph as they say. Which is why they're very rare. No one knows where they went. Of course, no one cares either. I need to teach you guys how to be more undercover. And Linnea, if you're going to be with us very long, you're going to need a weapon. Don't worry, I'll teach you how to use it. But orcs have started to pick up on your scent. They can sense humans. What do you think? Wanna be an archer? Knife thrower? Sword wielder? Never mind. I'll make you a magic one." I said.

It's been a while since I've been to the underground palace. There's a floor board that opens up to reveal a spiral staircase that leads to the underground palace. I call it a palace, because it's the size of 10 cottages, and as tall as the tallest tree in the forest. It has pearly white walls, and a crystallized floor. There were scrolls, spell books, and a whole armory that I've been waiting to dig into. I would have if it weren't for the biggest rule ever. STAY OUT OF MY OFFICE! The weaponry was my dad's greatest hobby. He made it for the elven militia back in the demon days. But I had always obeyed that rule. But he's no longer my dad is he? So it's mine. I took a sword from its sheath, closed my eyes, and imagined the sword turning into anything Linnea ever could imagine. It would respond to her every command, and there would be unlimited arrows for when she turned it into a bow. I opened my eyes and walked back upstairs to find Linnea making pasta.

"How are you doing that?" I asked, puzzled.

"I found a cooking pot in the kitchen and I thought about making some pasta. I walked away for a second, and when I came back, all of the ingredients were in the pot. I thought you put it there." She said.

"You mean that I never had to steal food all this time? All I had to do was imagine it? Must have been one of my parent's enchantment pots. I wish I knew this before I started being a thief." I said, jokingly.

"Well, it's almost ready. Set the table." Said Linnea.

"Can the table set itself?" I asked jokingly.

Now I won't say that I didn't try to make the table set itself, because I did try. But it didn't work so I had to do it myself. As we were sitting down to eat, I noticed that Linnea's eyes had changed color. They changed from a sky blue to a bright hazel color. I asked her why they changed colors, and she said that they changed with how she's feeling. She seemed happy. Joyful even. It was better than the scared Linnea that I had seen ever since she came to my cottage. She wasn't scared of elves, orcs, or demons even.

She wasn't scared of what lurked in the dark shadows, or even the ones that lived there. Heck, she wasn't even phased by those things. She was scared that she would be forced into marrying a bad person and losing me forever. I might be a thief in the night; but this is the only life I had ever known. I had forgotten about the fear of my parents that I had held for many years. I've always wanted to right my wrongs, but that seems to make things just get worse. I mean, I had put some silver in the town square once, and five people died from fighting over it. It was to repay some of the food of course, but everyone else thought it was a set up. These people would give half the town to whoever caught me first. It's pretty ridiculous if you ask me. Anyways, Linnea and I finished our meal and went down to the small pond behind my cottage. Birds were starting to settle down for the night, tree nymphs entangled their roots into the ground and fell asleep, and Linnea just kept talking.

"Thank you Bercallion, for what you did today. You know saving Kysa and I. It was very brave of you. I wish there were something that I could do for you, but I'm pretty useless at that. You're a good person. I know that it isn't much, but I just wanted for you to know that I will always be here for you. Whether you're getting chased by villagers, or just plain upset. I'm not going to give up on you" Said Linnea softly.

Dinner was amazing. Pasta is a delicacy to most elves. Usually we eat whatever we can hunt or savage from the woods. Some elves sell things to humans which is also forbidden, but the king would have too much trouble to deal with. We talked mostly about staying hidden when spying on people, the weak spots on orcs, how to hunt, using weapons, that sort of thing. After dinner, she had the dishes do themselves. For a Halfling, she's more like a mage. She's great at using magic. She still has to work on using the book though, because some spells come with a price of some sort, and some are forbidden to use. It was comforting to know that there's someone who I could talk with. Everyone's either afraid of me, or thinks that I'm a traitor. Now that Davian has seen me, everyone knows what I look like, which means that they'll be coming after me. Of course, no one wants to go in the woods. They're afraid of whatever contains a shadow. Heck, they're more paranoid of me than I am of them.

After we had finished dinner, it was about an hour past sundown. I took Linnea over to my perch by the wall. She climbed the tree by herself this time, as she had insisted. The mob was arriving at the town hall instead of going to their posts. Davian stood in the midst of them, looking perfectly fine. He had no limp, no wound; there wasn't even a scratch where he had been stabbed. It wasn't normal. He was addressing them. Then, something unexpected happened. They started setting up their torches so that it formed the shape of a rose. When it was completed, they all stood and watched the skies as if waiting for something to happen. They were waiting for me. Knowing the risk and the complete showoff that I am, I grabbed my cloak from the branch above my head. Then I opened the secret knot on the tree, and turned it. A part of the tree opened to reveal black wings. I put them on, and jumped off of my perch. Linnea called after me, but quickly hushed herself. I had left my black rose mask on my perch, and replaced it with a red rose mask. Red roses are common, so they only heal minor wounds. They don't shield elves from the human eye. I had switched them on purpose. I wanted them to see me. This was either going to give me the chance to redeem myself and gain their trust, or it was going to get me killed. Hopefully it wasn't the latter. I didn't feel like dying tonight.

I glided downwards and calmly landed in the center of the rose of flames. I summoned water, and it shot out of my palms to put out the fire. Davian had told them not to shoot at me. He wanted to kill me himself. He's not exactly the greatest archer. He's a swordsman. He takes challenges very seriously.

"If you move, they will shoot" Said Davian warningly.

"I wouldn't doubt it, except that it isn't a part of your plan. Is it? Yes, I would suppose that you would want to kill me, but you wouldn't let anyone else to do it for you. Now tell me, am I right? I mean, you would rather kill me yourself. But you can't kill me with an arrow. Because you're a good for nothing archer."

All eyes are on me. Including my parents'. My dad's eyes were full of hatred; my mom's eyes were filled with sorrow. She still cared about me, or so it would seem. I was quite proud of my speech. It seemed to make Davian offended. All part of the plan of course. The main plan was to make the humans afraid to attack the forest.

"Well you're quite the prat aren't you? I see you've been spying on us." Davian said tauntingly. I put up my hand to say something.

"You can't see me though! None of you can. The only way you see me now, is because I am allowing it. You didn't summon me; I could have stayed in my cot sleeping soundly by now. I've been planning on presenting myself in front of a crowd for ages. Because there are things that none of you know. There are things in those woods that will shred you to pieces. Hounds, orcs, demons, undead beings, creatures of the night. If any of you step into those woods without my permission or admittance, there is no guaranteeing that you will make it out alive. You would be dead faster than you could say fallandor. I guarantee it.


End file.
